


What Not to Expect When You're Expecting

by al-the-remix (only_blue)



Series: Cthulhu Series [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst and Romance, Body Horror, Cthulhu Mythos, M/M, Mpreg, Rituals, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_blue/pseuds/al-the-remix
Summary: The blankets had pooled around Geno’s waist where he had propped himself up to look at Sid. His pale chest and the remnants of his marks from many months ago were visible under the warm glow of the lamp. They had mostly faded, but Sid could have sworn he was still able to make out the faint outline of rings--some the size of dinner plates--clinging possessively to Geno’s skin.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Cthulhu Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807012
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	What Not to Expect When You're Expecting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Ceiling Cthulhu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313078/chapters/51412600), it will make more sense if you read that fic first, but don't worry it's a short one. 
> 
> I re-read a lot of Lovecraft's books before writing this, but I also took some liberties to fit the mythos in with this story. There's a glossary and some references in the endnotes. 
> 
> Thank you to sevenfists for betaing this fic and also for listening to me say that I was almost finished this five times before I actually was.

Before him was a limitless plane of smooth black, like a slab of veined marble. The ice beneath Sid’s hands was as thin and clear as cellophane, a narrow sheet barring him from the water’s depths. The pale reflection of his face stared back at him, ghost-like against the dark current below, like a smudge on a dirty mirror.

Sid’s hands splayed flat across it, bracing for any crack or splinter, but the ice remained eerily still compared to the turbulence underneath.

Wails like the sound of a lighthouse siren echoed around him, a cacophonous screech that sent a sick shiver down his spine like the droning of a wounded animal. Sid could feel it reverberate through the ice and into his arms, travelling up his bones and pounding against the inside of his skull. The sky flashed black, then white, then black again, creating a montage of stark horrors etched into his retinas. Grains of sand bore their way into the creases of his skin, biting at him like pinpricks, grounding him in his body and denying him from seeking relief in the still sanctuary of his mind.

Something massive slithered beneath the surface of the ice, barely distinguishable in the dark waters. It wasn’t so much shapes, but the absence of shapes. The unseeable, unnameable horror as if his eyes were trying to assign form to a being that didn’t have any. The rasp of muted voices spoke to him, rising up from the sea of terrible inhuman sounds. They chanted the same ominous hymn he’s heard before, so long ago now he could barely remember. It was enough to freeze his blood.

Suddenly, the ice cracked like a shotgun going off, suspending him for one infinite moment before plunging him into the darkness to be swallowed by the black waters of existential dread.

+

Sid sputtered awake to the sensation of choking on seawater. The taste of salt in the back of his sinuses burned and lingered. It had been a long time since Sid had dreamt of the long black beach and infinite sea. He still had no idea what all lurked beneath the surface, but it seemed all the more heinous because it was so secret.

Sid untangled himself from his sheets. They had coiled around him in the night and the fabric was cold and damp with sweat. The red glow of the clock on the nightstand read three a.m. Sid could just barely make out the silhouette of Geno’s shoulder in the low light. At least Sid hadn’t woken him up with his thrashing. Geno needed as much sleep as he could get these days.

Sid was careful not to jostle him when he slipped quietly from bed and into the bathroom and cranked the shower to life. The hiss of the water was loud in the hush of the early morning and it was a relief to stand under the steaming spray of the shower and let it stream down over his head, silencing the quiet. He was shivering and his skin was tacky. Washing away the salt crusted in his eyelashes, Sid could swear he found granules of sand stuck in the creases behind his knees and the bends of his arms. He scrubbed those away too.

Finally, he pressed his forehead to the cool tile of the shower wall and wrapped his hand around where he was hot and hard, his hips rolling into it. It wasn’t going to take much to come. Between the lather of his hand and thinking about Geno’s hot mouth and the alien caress of sinuous dark shapes snaking over his skin, Sid’s cock was rigid, balls tight. There was a quick succession of images like in his dream: a hulking mass and the jagged outcropping of monolithic rocks. A face writhing with tentacles and Sid’s own stomach, swollen and ripe with eggs.

Sid pressed his forehead tighter against the wall, his abs seizing and clenching. He could feel the throb and pulse of his veins, suspended in an infinite spin, high on arousal and animal fear. Sid’s face screwed up as he fucked messily a last few times into the slippery grip of his palm. His ass flexed as he spurted up his chest and all over the tiles, his orgasm tearing through him. A shiver ran down his spine. Sid could have sworn he heard the distant sound of chanting just past the rush of water in his ears.

Drying off, Sid pulled on a clean pair of underwear, shifting around the contents of his sock drawer until his fingers bumped against the blunt spine of his notebook. The shape of it was weighty in his palm. It had been duct-taped back together a few times over the years, its plain black cover scuffed with marks of age and good use. Sid felt more stable with it in his hand and he brought it back to bed with him.

Thankfully the sheets were mostly dry when he slid back under them, being just as careful not to wake Geno as when he’d left. Sid grabbed his phone and sank down against the mattress, pulling the comforter over his head and laying his phone on his chest with the flashlight on so it lit up his cavern of sheets. It reminded him of secretly trying to read ghost stories in the middle of the night as a kid. It wasn’t too far off.

The pages of the notebook were thick with images Sid had collected over the years and notes pasted to paper with glue and tape. He thumbed through them. The book was almost full now. Sid had been saving the last chunk of free space to dedicate to Geno’s brood and now almost all those pages were gone.

It was still mostly Sid doing the writing, but Geno hadn’t held back from leaving his scribbled marginalia every few pages since Sid shared the book with him. Some of it was commentary; the rest was what Sid could only guess were doodles of tentacle dicks, most of them ejaculating onto stick figures labelled _“Sid.”_

Geno always said he had failed art class, but Sid wasn’t buying it. This took creativity.

Sid flipped through the pages until he found the last notes he had taken about dreams. They had gotten more and more vivid the closer it had come for him to go back to that endless rolling plane. Dreams of dark vistas and slick limbs coated in green ooze that reached for him. Dreams of chanting and large penetrating eyes. The skin at the back of Sid’s neck felt hot just thinking about it, and he rubbed at it. As far as he could tell, Geno wasn’t having any of those dreams. Something mustn’t be right. Sid couldn’t shake the feeling.

A hand landed heavily over Sid, collapsing his makeshift tent and making him jump out of his skin. Sid poked his head out of the blankets, quick to turn the flashlight off when Geno put his hand up against the light. It was too late; he was up anyway. Geno just reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp instead. He squinted at Sid, mouth pulled into a frown. He looked cranky and rumpled.

Sid gave him a sheepish smile. “What’s up?”

Geno’s frown deepened. “Why are you awake?”

Sid searched for a good excuse. The blankets had pooled around Geno’s waist where he had propped himself up to look at Sid. His pale chest and the remnants of his marks from many months ago were visible under the warm glow of the lamp. They had mostly faded, but Sid could have sworn he was still able to make out the faint outline of rings--some the size of dinner plates--clinging possessively to Geno’s skin. All of the marks marring Sid’s own skin had faded long ago.

Sid swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t sleep, I was just reading for a bit.”

Geno gave him a skeptical look and reached under the covers to fish out the notebook. Sid let him take it without protest and Geno groaned when he saw what it was. He waved it in Sid’s face like Sid had just made his point for him. “This s’not read, this is you _worry_.”

“I’m not worried.” It was Sid’s knee-jerk response and Geno continued to look at him flatly. “I’m maybe a little bit worried.”

Geno sighed in resignation and placed the book out of reach on his own bedside table.

“Maybe if you’d let me come with you--” Sid started tentatively.

Geno just groaned again, this time with more of a dramatic flair. Sometimes Sid suspected that if Geno could only communicate in huffs and grumbles he would. “We not talk about this right now Sid, it’s _late._ ”

Sid chewed at his lip. That hadn’t been a _no_ , explicitly, but it wasn’t the _yes_ he wanted either.

“We can talk about it tomorrow?” he tried. Maybe it was just the dreams, but the thought of Geno going back there alone made Sid uneasy.

“Go to sleep, Sid.” Geno sighed long-sufferingly. “You need it.” He reached over and flicked off the lights, plunging them both into darkness.

Sid lay silently and watched Geno’s back until finally, Geno lifted his arm in invitation. “Come here.”

Sid scooched closer hastily, burrowing under the blankets and settling in. He curled his arm around Geno and pressed his nose to the fine hairs at the base of his neck. They were pressed intimately close, but still, Sid wanted to be closer. Not knowing if it would be welcome, Sid lightly cupped the bottom curve of Geno’s stomach in his hand. A complicated mixture of affection and apprehension balled in his throat. It too tasted a bit like seawater. Geno wound their fingers together, pressing their joined hands tighter to his stomach and giving Sid a reassuring squeeze.

“Sleep now,” Geno said, and Sid’s eyelids grew heavy once more.

+

Geno yawned loudly and pointedly multiple times during the car ride to the arena. It was childish but Sid got the message. No more middle-of-the-night notebook sessions. Not in bed at least…

Both of Geno’s hands were tucked into his sleeves and wrapped tightly around his travel mug as he slouched in the passenger seat of Sid’s car, mumbling into the lid of it. “We’re late.”

“No, we’re not,” Sid said but pressed his foot down a little heavier on the gas pedal anyway.

He knew Geno was still concerned people would think that he was working any less hard since Sid came back from IR; any less hard now that Geno could no longer hide the fact that he had been chosen to carry the Pittsburgh Cthulhu’s brood. Just the suggestion that Geno would slack because of it was crazy to Sid. He didn’t understand how anyone could look at Geno and not see how dedicated he was.

Geno hadn’t mentioned any of this to Sid, of course, but he didn’t need to. Sid remembered having similar worries a long time ago. The difference was Sid hadn’t had a Stanley Cup win to live up to. Sid drove a little faster still.

Sid wasn’t the biggest fan of playing afternoon games. They had a bad rap sheet. The early hour threw off the team’s schedule and left everything feeling choked up and constricted because of it. Sid had put the away game against Toronto behind him. It was the only thing to do. Lingering over defeat ate away at you like rot and only led to bigger issues.

They were playing on home ice today. That had to count for something.

Geno strode ahead of him and Sid had to lengthen his stride to keep up. Geno still took Sid’s loop away from the visitor’s locker room with him so maybe Sid wasn’t in too much trouble. He hadn’t been this on edge the entire time Geno was pregnant. His worries had grown steadily from, as far as Sid could tell, thin air.

When they pushed into the street locker rooms, Kris nodded at Geno’s back. “He looks about ready to pop.” And Kris meant that literally.

Right before Sid had gotten the call to go back and give birth to his brood, just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to tie up the laces on his hockey pants anymore, all at once his stomach had gotten impossibly bigger. It had been the most uncomfortable period of the entire pregnancy. Geno hadn’t _“popped”_ yet. But he was going to, it was all just a matter of time, and based on Sid’s instincts it was going to happen soon.

Geno didn’t seem exactly overly concerned at the prospect.

Sid watched the stretch of Geno’s shirt over his pale stomach as he changed into his trackies. He was smaller than Sid had been at five months in. Maybe it was just because of his height, but Sid remembered feeling bloated beyond comparison by this point, and then he had still somehow gotten larger.

They split off. Geno had a brief check-up before each game, but he was allowed to play as long as his equipment still fit. Cthulhu babies were made to be durable. Geno headed to the medical office while Sid made his way to the lounge. He loaded up his plate with pasta and joined Kris at a table. Kris was intent on scrolling through his phone.

“Putting it on a little thick, aren’t they?” he said when Sid sat down.

“What’s that?”

Kris pushed his phone across the table, the article he was reading open on the screen. “The Seattle Krakens?” Kris grinned, touching his finger to the tip of his nose. “It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it.”

Sid skimmed through the information on the new team. It was mostly speculation at this point, but-- “It’s not a Kraken,” Sid muttered absentmindedly.

“Oh? You said that thing had tentacles.” Kris wiggled his fingers in mock imitation and Sid felt his face heat. “Same difference, right?”

“Yeah, it _definitely_ had tentacles.” Sid chuckled. They were hard for Sid to forget. Sid stared at the screen as it went blurry and out of focus.

“Hey G, maybe one of your and Sid’s squid spawn will be the one shipped off to Seattle.”

Sid looked up, blinking away the fuzz as Geno sat down between them. He looked at Sid with a resigned expression on his face. “What is he talking about now?”

“A whole lot of nothing.” Sid smiled. He loved getting an opportunity to rag on Kris but right now he kind of wished he'd take a walk. Sid wanted to ask Geno about how his appointment had gone and they wouldn’t get a lot of privacy between now and stepping onto the ice.

“I was just asking Sid if he thought one of your kids would end up with Seattle.”

“They’re not my kids,” Sid mumbled and stuffed a fork full of pasta into his mouth. There was a beat of silence and then Geno cuffed him on the back of the head hard enough to make Sid choke on his mouthful.

“Sid’s just jealous, wants its attention all to himself.”

Kris was watching them curiously. “What, Sid? Feeling neglected?”

Sid coughed up a bit of pasta, his eyes watering. “You guys are jerks.”

Kris took his phone back and started talking to Geno about the Lakers’ run this year. Sid looked at the noodles on his plate and tried not to think about an infinity of squiggly arms.

The team shuffled into the media room to review tapes and go over plays before the game. They knew what they had to do to win, and at this point, in Sid’s opinion, it was a matter of just _doing it._

Sid leaned back in his chair. The lights were off and the soft darkness of the room felt like it was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. Every time the light of the projector flickered, Sid flinched, waiting for it, whatever it was that his body seemed to be priming itself for. His muscles were coiled and ready to spring at the drop of a puck the same way they did during a game.

A hum echoed from the corners, a hum that was more than just the mechanical whirring of machines. Sid glanced to the side, but Geno looked unbothered, sitting in the back row and watching intently with his hands resting on his stomach. After this game, they’d be gone, away on a road trip that took them across the country for a week. That would be a week away from the one place Sid knew for sure they could cross over to the otherworld.

The hum rose and bubbled like it was filtering up from great depths. Sid shifted in his seat. A white flash streaked across the screen like a shooting star, burning his eyes. The white light fizzled out into the boundless gloom that lurked around him, but the flash had tattooed itself on his retinas.

The lights lifted and Sid walked out into the hall in a haze. Something brushed against his arm and Sid looked up to see Geno, squeezing Sid’s bicep as he passed him. He smiled down at Sid tightly and in a way that didn’t reach his eyes.

The game against Buffalo was hard-fought, but ultimately lost. Sid panted and hung his head as the final buzzer sounded, sweat droplets catching in the corners of his eyes and making them burn. He shook his head, and the patterns of water on the ice swam, wiggling into abstract shapes, making him feel dizzy. The shapes ordered themselves into lines like text and Sid shook his head again, turning and skating off the ice.

+

Sid still had the media to deal with, answering the same questions they always asked: What was it like to be back? Was he at one hundred percent yet? Was he feeling good? What Sid _felt like_ was following Geno into the showers. From behind the throng of reporters, he watched Geno leave the locker room with his towel. The hair on the back of Sid’s neck stood on end thinking about the distance he’d have to cross to get to Geno. Water was a gateway and it seemed like at any moment the room could shake and shatter apart, tipping them all into the abyss, the place where day never came.

Sid answered every question graciously, on edge until the moment Jen gave him the nod and he was allowed to excuse himself. The showers were already empty and Sid scrubbed himself down hastily. The team, including Geno, was waiting for him to finish up in the lounge.

Sid didn’t get any sleep on the plane ride to Washington. He sat at the front and chatted Jason up about their power play. Sid liked him; he was a strong addition to the team. Eventually Jason got a text from his wife and Sid moved seats to give him the illusion of privacy, the best you could do on a skinny jet full of two-hundred-pound men. He plugged in his earbuds to listen to a podcast he’d been saving for the road trip. He could feel the atmosphere pressing in all around them, up against the window panes and down through the vents. At least they’d be landing soon; the plane ride to D.C. was a short one.

Geno had disappeared straight to the back of the plane when they had boarded. It would be getting close to landing time by now, so Sid got up and made his way back through the aisles. The yelling that normally accompanied the card games had quieted down and Geno smiled when he saw Sid, moving his jacket out of the way so that Sid could sit beside him. It was empty at the back, but still, Sid turned his body in so it was just him and Geno. He had one question that had been rolling around his brain since they had gotten off the ice.

“How did the check-up go?”

Geno’s mouth twisted into a fond smile. “It was good, everything normal.” He reached to pull the notebook from his bag. Sid had lent it to him to use to record his appointments if he wanted to. He had a feeling Geno was using it more to satisfy Sid than himself, but Sid would take what he could get.

He looked over Geno’s scrawl. Parts of it weren’t even in English, not that Sid could really do much with this information anyways. He just wanted to know. Somewhere, hidden in all this was an answer, he was sure of it.

“You’re feeling good, really? Strong?” Sid asked, flipping back through the pages to try and compare his notes to Geno’s last entry. It took Sid a minute to realize he had never gotten an answer and looked up.

Geno was watching him with a complicated expression on his face. “I feel fine, Sid.” He reached out a hand and Sid placed the notebook back into it. Geno flipped back through the pages, stopping somewhere far past Geno’s chapter and deep into Sid’s.

He settled on a page, regarding it. Sid couldn’t make out what it was from this angle, and he felt more exposed the longer Geno stared. He wasn’t used to watching Geno read the book in front of him like this, chewing over something, bottom lip drawn into his mouth.

“Was it worth it?” Geno asked, finally, striking Sid off balance with his question.

“Yeah, of course it was.” Sid wove his fingers together in his lap, itching to take the book back and bury it away.

“You don’t regret it?”

Sid froze. He hadn’t been expecting that one either. It was a non-question.

Geno was watching him carefully. “Do you really think it will help with the Cup--”

“Where are all these questions coming from?” Sid asked bluntly and Geno shrugged, eyes never leaving the page.

“I think we a good team this year,” Geno said quietly.

“So do I,” Sid answered, softening. He didn’t mean to prickle. But that was--of course he thought it would help. If Sid didn’t believe in it now, then everything else supported by that one pillar of faith would crumble and blow away.

Geno hummed thoughtfully, tapping his finger against the page he had open. “I like this picture.”

Sid let out the breath that had been trapped in his chest and leaned over to get a better look. It was a small, square photo, pasted onto the page. Sid was at the centre of the group, their old teammates gathered around him. It had probably been taken at somebody’s house, maybe Mario’s. For once, Sid’s shirt was off, which maybe wasn’t such a rarity back then. Geno was crouched beside him, pointing at Sid’s stomach like it was the eighth wonder of the world. The memory made the corners of his mouth twitch despite himself and curl into a smile.

He remembered cropping the photo to fit the page, framing Geno and himself at the centre. It was a silly photo, but Geno ran his finger along the edge of it like it was something special. Sid didn’t even have to think about it before he offered. “Do you want it?”

Geno looked at him with wide eyes. “Sid--”

“Here.” Sid didn’t wait for a response, just reached over and pulled the picture out of the book. It only took a little bit of force to unstick the old glue.

He dropped it into Geno’s awaiting hand and he cradled it reverently. “Thank you,” Geno said after a moment.

“Yeah, for sure.” Sid spoke past the lump in his throat, watching as Geno smiled down at it fondly and tucked the photo carefully away into his wallet.

The truth was, Sid couldn’t remember enough now to know whether it had been worth it or not. The memories had faded slowly over time.

He didn’t go back to his seat at the front. He stayed in the back and held Geno’s hand for a bit, in his lap and under the cover of his coat.

+

When they got off the bus the next morning at the Capital One arena, Sid carried the notebook around like it was a shield, tucked safely into the breast pocket of his jacket, over his heart. Things felt steadier with it there, at least for a while.

Maybe it was just his general dislike of the Caps as a team, but he couldn’t shake the cord of unease that gripped him entering the building. Sid passed a security guard holding the door open for them as they filed by and froze in place when he turned to say thank you. For a moment, her eyes bulged from her face, cloudy and forever staring, skin gone sickly and pale green like the slick underside of a fish’s belly. She smiled at him and her teeth were two rows of needle-thin points, rooting him to the spot. She hummed at him cheerily and the gills that slit her throat quivered. Someone behind Sid nudged him along, and just like that the image was washed away.

“Sorry,” Sid said, and she just smiled and nodded at him as he passed.

It was far too easy to let fear gestate in a womb like the mind, and the inner workings of the Caps’ arena was full of endless unfamiliar recesses where shadows could follow Sid and whisper. As he moved, they kept pace with him just out of the corner of his eye.

Sid didn’t remember feeling like this the first time. Then, it had been a different sort of fear, thrilling and daring. An intoxicating mixture. He might not have all the memories, but he had the emotions: the pain, the excitement, the pleasure tattooed on his soul. He had been so sure of what everything meant then. He’d tried to write the experience down the best he could, but his words were dry and prosaic, unworthy of conveying such an abnormal experience.

There was no shining Pens logo looming above them when the team filed into the guest locker room, but that didn’t matter. Sid could feel its presence hanging heavy in the air. Like a giant eye set into the ceiling, watching him, watching _them_. Sid had been foolish to think that it wasn’t going to keep tabs on Geno wherever he went. It was like a clingy ex-boyfriend, but without any of the memories of the good times.

Sid yanked harder on his laces, securing them tightly. A shadow loomed over him, cutting off the glare of the fluorescent lights. He looked up sharply. Geno was leaning over him, arms braced on the shelf above Sid’s stall. With his skates already on, he looked eight feet tall and invincible.

“Stop, rookies think you’re acting weird.”

Sid went back to his laces. “This is what I’m always like before games.”

“Right,” Geno said dryly, poking Sid right on the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “All stormy, like a rain cloud.”

“I’m focused.” Sid’s eyes shifted once around the room before they dropped to Geno’s belly. It was perfectly at eyeline. Geno’s hockey pants looked like he’d just managed to tie them up with the last inch of lace. Soon they wouldn’t fit at all.

When Sid looked back up, Geno was already smirking at him. Sid sighed. “Yeah, yeah, aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed?”

Geno just patted him on the head like he was pacifying a dog and waddled back over to his seat. Sid shook his head and started in on the other skate. He _was_ focused. It just happened to be on a few things at one time.

As they lined up to skate out onto the ice, Sid couldn’t shake the aura of foreboding he could feel pressing in from every corner. It vibrated through the walls, turning the concrete liquid. The sound of voices like soft thrashing was laced through the speakers and the roar of the fans. It felt like the building was a living thing and Sid was the foreign object lodged in its tissue, festering, needing to be spat out.

_“Hey,”_

There was the tap of Geno’s glove between his shoulder blades, breaking Sid out of the trance as he offered his fist for Sid to bump. Sid smiled up at him and rapped their knuckles together. For now, things were okay.

+

Sid simmered quietly the whole bus ride back to the hotel. The game against the Caps had been brutal and he was still wound up from watching Dillon grab Geno from the bench where he could do nothing but yell. His limbs were exhausted, and yet restlessness bloomed under Sid’s skin. That was their third loss in a row, but it wasn’t so unheard of, and Sid couldn't let the frustration get the better of him. He had to keep a level head for the guys, but it felt hard to do while set adrift on a turbulent sea.

As soon as they were let off the bus he made a beeline for the hotel, Geno shadowing him. The front office still booked them separate rooms, but one always went unused. Geno disappeared into the bathroom of Sid’s hotel room while Sid fought with his tie, yanking it from around his neck. Everything was too tight and claustrophobic in the same way it had been on the plane. His clothes, the room, even the air itself irritated his skin.

Sid didn’t know what he wanted to do more: go find a stationary bike or lie down and sleep until it was time to get on the plane. They had some time before boarding and Sid was going to use every second of it to decompress. He took a deep, steadying breath. Lying out on top of the bed covers in his underwear, Sid stared up at the ceiling. Normally Sid was better than this at keeping his cool. The edges of his vision began to crinkle and darken and Sid rubbed at his eyes till all he could see was black spots.

When Geno lay down beside him, he felt the dip in the bed as Geno shuffled close, and pulled Sid’s hands away from his face.

Geno was bare-chested and stripped down to his shorts. The hair at his temples was damp like he had splashed water on it. Sid let himself enjoy having Geno here with him, in bed. It hadn’t been all that long ago that just the idea of that seemed impossible.

Sid shifted even closer still and spoke into the small space between them. “It’s always worse losing to them you know? Rough.” Sid had really wanted to get this one for Geno. If there was anyone who hated losing to the Caps more than Sid, it was Geno.

“Yes,” Geno agreed. He was still cradling Sid’s wrist in his hand, resting their joined hands against Sid’s chest. Geno ran his thumb back and forth over Sid’s pulse point as he thought for a moment, and the look on his face told Sid that he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s like, I think--this year is going to be a good year. All we have to do is work hard. But, then I’m injured and you’re injured. We play well, but then finally when we start to get people back again, then, flat--” He shook his head and huffed out a sound of frustration. “Maybe it’s not enough,” Geno murmured, as if to himself.

“G--” With that one word it was as if all the air had leaked from Sid’s chest. Sid wanted to say something, to reassure, tell him without a doubt that their actions held meaning. But before he could find the words, it had been too long and he was cut off.

Geno gave Sid’s wrist a small squeeze and a smile. “Have a little bit of time before we need to go. Can relax, not worry so much.”

Sid pressed his lips together and let a sigh out through his nose, letting it rest. “I don’t know how much sleep I’m going to get, if any.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to dread closing his eyes, just a bit. “You nap, I’ll wake you up when we have to go.” Sid ran his nail along the edge of Geno’s eye, tracing the crow’s feet and the pillowy bags. Geno looked soft and rumpled like he was ready to melt into the covers. “You must be exhausted.”

Geno placed his hand flat on Sid’s chest, heavy, like that one small touch was pinning Sid in place. His fingers tapped a rhythm Sid felt reverberate all the way through his rib cage. “Not so much,” Geno said and hummed thoughtfully. “Where’s your nasty jar? I know you bring it.”

“It’s not nasty,” Sid protested, face heating. Still, he reached into his bag by the bed and rustled through his things till he found the jar of Vaseline. Okay, so, it _was_ getting kind of old. But Sid still popped the lid and rubbed some across his lips to make a point. “You could probably use some yourself.” Geno’s lips looked like they had a layer of tissue paper stuck to them, they were so chapped.

Geno just held out his hand expectantly. “Give to me. _Please,”_ he added after a moment, and Sid passed the jar over, watching as Geno dug out a large glob with his fingers.

“ _Hey,_ ” Sid squawked. The jar was almost empty as it was.

“Shh, I know you use,” Geno murmured, and leaned further into Sid’s space, dropping his voice till it rasped against Sid’s nerves.

The sound of Geno rubbing the salve around to coat his hand was loud in the stillness of the hotel room, and the wet noises made heat prickle over Sid’s skin. Sid swallowed thickly and watched as Geno reached inside the pocket of Sid’s boxers. His hand was warm and slick, wrapping around where Sid was already chubbing up and pulling his dick out into the cool air.

“You’re all worked up.”

Sid’s breath caught in his chest. Geno knew Sid liked to jerk off like this because most of the time Geno watched him do it. Just the memory had Sid’s toes curling against the mattress. It was embarrassing to feel this needy already. Geno’s fingers circled him loosely as he stroked Sid lazily. It was just enough to get him hard but not quite enough to satisfy that greedy pull coiling in Sid’s gut.

“ _Geno._ ” Sid let his name out in one long shaky sigh.

“Need to relax,” Geno hushed. His hot breath left a damp patch against the sensitive skin of Sid’s neck, making him shiver.

“Just don’t tease, I can’t _\--_ ” Sid broke off with a gasp when Geno tightened his grip deliberately.

“Better?” Geno asked, and Sid could only nod against the pillow, feeling the blood pool hot in his face and his groin as Geno stroked him the rest of the way hard. He watched Sid with dark, curious eyes as shudders caressed Sid’s skin like static. All that tension that had been like a hard ball in the pit of his stomach waned as Sid slipped his eyes shut and let the sensation take over, lapping at him like cresting waves.

Finding the mattress under his feet, Sid got just enough leverage to roll his hips up into the slippery clutch of Geno’s thick palm. Every thrust was met with the wet slap of skin, the sound filling his ears and bringing Sid dangerously close to coming all over himself in record time.

With a wicked twist of his hand, Geno paused to brush his thumb up over the sensitive underside of the head, rubbing there and making Sid’s mouth drop open on a silent gasp. Geno gave him another purposeful squeeze and Sid’s eyes fluttered open, staring up at Geno’s pink face. His expression was focused and Sid had to wonder if he was the only one who had been feeling this intense need to possess. Geno’s hand pushed deeper into Sid’s boxers, rolling his greasy palm over Sid’s balls. It felt achy good deep in the pit of Sid’s stomach to have Geno rubbing over the taut skin, taking his time fondling Sid because he could _._ Sid was okay with feeling a little bit owned.

Geno leaned down and dropped a kiss to Sid’s mouth, slow and with feeling. Sid tilted his head to deepen it. He had just gotten to taste the inside of Geno’s mouth when Geno pulled away, just enough to look Sid in the eye when he slid his finger down and rubbed over Sid’s hole. “Want to fuck?”

Sid’s dick jumped at that, hard enough to smear a wet spot against his belly. Yeah, he wanted to fuck. It felt like his blood had been ramped up to its boiling point and he was jittery like he was high off it.

Geno pulled away, bending to lick first at the shiny patch of jizz smeared under Sid’s bellybutton, then lapping at the bead pearling at the tip of his cock. A scattering of sensation shot across his skin like sparks as Sid’s cock twitched again and Geno sucked a kiss to it. Sid’s fingers itched to grab Geno by the head, slide between those lips and bury himself there.

Pulling a face at the taste of Vaseline, Geno sat up and wiped his mouth dramatically. “Fuck my face another time.”

Geno got settled on his back, the remnants of Sid’s jar of Vaseline stolen to lube up his own fingers. “Watch,” Geno instructed, and dropped his hand between his spread legs, fat mouth hanging open and breathing heavily as he got himself ready for Sid.

Sid took off his boxers and knelt between Geno’s open knees, skimming his hands down his long thighs and over his hips. Keeping his touch as light as ever, Sid framed Geno’s belly with both of his hands, bracketing the swell of him between his thumbs and forefingers. Sid let his hands drift up over the curve of Geno’s stomach, big enough now that if Sid splayed his hands out over it they no longer covered the surface. His pinky fingers strained to reach the skin of Geno’s hips.

“You like me a little bit fat?” Geno’s voice drifted over, sounding breathy.

Sid’s chest constricted “It’s not--” It wasn’t fat, it was eggs, _babies--_

The quirk of Geno’s mouth said he knew and the lilt in his voice said he was teasing Sid anyways. “Like me full.”

Sid’s hips fluttered, grinding against empty air. He dropped his eyes to look at where Geno’s fingers were disappearing into his shiny pink hole, stretched tightly around two. He was so good, the best.

Sid hadn’t fucked him since before the ritual in November. Four months. Sid knew that number like it was scratched into the inside of his skull.

Geno pressed his hand deeper and let out a showy sigh. Sid was so hard it ached, watching the thrust of Geno’s fingers and imagining sinking into that hot clasp.

Geno sounded like he had found a good spot, rocking into it, his cock thick and red where it lay against his hip. Sid remembered how good it had felt to get fucked like this when he was carrying. A vicious need had sparked in the back of his mind, a need for more. More success, more wins, more people willing to spread his legs and give him what he wanted. Sid had been the vessel for the Pittsburgh Cthulhu, and it had been comically easy to find willing partners. Sid had been the vessel but now it was Geno, and Geno was _his_.

An endless stream of pleased noises leaked from Geno’s mouth and Sid couldn’t wait any longer. Planting his hands on either side of Geno’s head, Sid braced himself above him, pressing himself down into the sweaty crease of Geno’s hip. His dick caught between Geno’s thigh and the lower curve of his belly. Spreading his knees, Sid ground against the smooth skin of Geno’s abdomen. All the tension Sid had been carrying around all week, all game, the frustration and the exhaustion bled out of him and his world was narrowed down to the sweet satisfaction of rubbing himself off on Geno. A hand gripped his ass, fingertips digging into the tensed muscle and nails biting crescents.

“ _Hard,_ ” Geno grunted, and Sid rutted fervently into the hot clutch of his hip and thigh, pressed up against Geno’s leaking cock. The sweetest little spot, previously undiscovered, and Sid was so hard he might just drill a hole into it.

Geno’s hand left his ass, reaching up to press against the headboard. The length of him, stretched out and pale from a long season, was like a feast for Sid’s eyes, and Sid swore under his breath.

“Sid, Sid--” Geno was chanting as Sid ground down tight, nearly tipping over the edge of painful. Geno’s knees bore down on Sid’s sides as he stiffened up underneath him, then there was a sudden warm slide as Geno found his release and Sid was rutting into the slippery mess of come pooled in the groove of Geno’s hip.

“Oh God,” Sid bit off and squeezed his eyes shut. The frictionless glide of his dick over Geno’s skin was so good and not enough. He felt Geno wriggle his hand out from where it was wedged between their bodies, his tacky fingers brushing lightly against Sid’s cheek.

“Sid,”

“What?” He was ready to blow, he just needed a little bit of _something_ \--

“Come on my stomach,” Geno said and his other hand reached down to squeeze Sid’s hip encouragingly.

Blood roared in Sid’s ears like a storm surge. “ _Jesus._ ” Sid pulled back just enough to close a hand around his cock and shuffled in. Geno’s hand came down to join his, slowly nudging it out of the way till Sid was watching the flex of Geno’s corded forearm as he jerked Sid off in efficient strokes over his stomach. Sid hung his head--it took too much focus to keep it up--and just watched, timing his thrusts to the rhythm of Geno’s hand. The sound roared louder and Sid fucked into Geno’s fist with a final few abortive hitches of his hips.

Sid came in thick ropes all over the expanse of Geno’s stomach. It dripped down over the sides and pooled in his bellybutton.

The roaring in his ears peaked and ebbed as Sid caught his breath, easing back onto his heels.

“Nice play,” Geno said, and patted his knee, his voice sounding wrecked. Sid snorted, lying down beside him.

“I could probably use that nap now,” Sid said, flopping back against the bed, and Geno chuckled.

“Such an old man.”

“Am not,” Sid said, only making himself sound like a child instead.

“Worry like old man,” Geno whispered, and Sid looked over at him, but Geno was looking down at his hands, picking away at something invisible under his nails. “You worry all the time but never tell me.”

“It’s nothing, it’s silly,” Sid tried but Geno wasn’t having it.

“It’s _not_ silly,” Geno bit.

“Fine,” Sid said, propping himself up to look Geno in the eye whether he liked it or not. “I’m worried that you wouldn’t ask for help even if you needed it. I mean, think about last year, I don’t want this to become you punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault again. That’s not what this is supposed to be about.”

“Not my fault if you don’t believe when I say I’m fine. Even the doctor says. I write it down in small words in your book so you understand.”

His gaze shifted down to Geno’s come-smeared stomach. He didn’t know if he was just imagining it but it looked bigger than it had this morning. “The doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. No one does unless they’ve been through this.”

Geno scrubbed at his eyes. “ _You_ don’t even know what this is about, Sid, you act like you do but you know nothing.” Sid pressed his lips together tight till they went numb and Geno sighed. “Don’t want to talk about this same thing again and again, Sid. Just because you don’t think I can’t do it by myself.”

“That’s not—you said you wanted to know!”

“Stop,” Geno said, and Sid snapped his jaw shut. “We have to get ready.”

Geno righted himself up slowly, which was hard to do with dignity when your stomach was roughly the size of a basketball. “I’m going to use the shower first,” he said without looking at Sid, and closed the door soundly between them.

Sid let his head thump back against the pillow, and just like that he was set adrift once again.

+

Sid tried to let Geno have his space as much as he could while they packed up their bags and took the elevator down to meet the team in the lobby. Geno was silent and sat in his own row during the bus ride to the airport. Andy paused and raised his eyebrows when he walked past, then took the empty seat next to Sid.

He nodded his chin at where Geno was sitting alone. “Is that weird or no?”

“Try and ask him,” Sid snapped, and Andy's brows stretched further towards his hairline. Sid rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry, just ignore that.”

Sid tightened his grip on the notebook in his hand till he was sure his knuckles had gone white. Geno had left it out on the bed for him and Sid had scooped it up on his way out the door. He felt Andy reach over and carefully pry it from his fingers. Sid let him take it without protest.

Andy’s silence was heavy, measured like a carefully weighted scale. Sid fought to sit still as Andy slowly paged through the book, assessing in the same way he assessed Sid’s form. Each turn of the page was a peek under Sid’s skin.

He turned and watched the scenery zip past, muddled grey and dreary. Freezing rain clung to the window in streams, like tiny little ice planets with tiny little ice men. Unaware that they were melting into water droplets, travelling across the pane like celestial bodies in the night. Maybe it was as simple as that. Planets and stars on a sheet of glass, dancing as they were slowly drawn apart, gradually moving towards disorder.

Andy gave a deep sigh. “Maybe it’s time to give this thing a rest, Sid.”

Sid flexed his fingers. He didn’t really want to hear it. The notebook was Sid’s touchstone. He couldn’t just _forget_ the way everyone else seemed to so easily. Nor did he want to. Things had to be more than what they seemed.

“I don’t think it’s really something you’re meant to understand.” Andy paused as if weighing his words. “I worry about you.”

Sid almost snorted despite himself. Hadn’t that been the same thing he’d said to Geno not 24 hours ago.

Sid could feel Andy’s stare on the back of his head, and when he turned, Andy’s eyes were just as penetrating as he had imagined. Sid’s mind flashed back to those bulging clouded ones and he looked away, squeezing his eyes against the images that violated his mind.

“Did you get to nap?”

“Not exactly,” Sid said, and Andy let out a quiet huff of amusement.

“Try and sleep on the plane, eh? It will do you some good.” He clapped a hand to Sid’s shoulder, tying him down to the earth.

The runway was slick with rain, making it appear like ice as they hustled to board the plane, braced against the wind.

“God, I can’t wait for some _sun,_ ” Horny groaned, peeling off his jacket.

Sid watched over his shoulder as Geno bumped into every second seat with his stomach on his way down the aisle. Sid listened to Horny crow: “It’s time to push those puppies out, Malkin!” and Geno’s responding squawk of indignance, flipping all of them off when the wolf whistles followed.

Geno left his jacket pointedly in the seat beside him, his earplugs stuck in and a book pulled out as if just one of those things wasn’t a strong enough message. Sid sat down a row behind him and let his head fall back against the headrest, closing his eyes and drifting. He probably couldn’t keep them open any longer if he tried. Learning how to sleep on planes had become a crucial skill. He tipped his head back and letting himself be dragged under by the white noise of the engines and the dry air that was always off by a degree or two.

A coldness settled over him like a draft and Sid repressed a shiver, focusing on the hum of the jets as the plane positioned itself to take off. It picked up speed, hurtling into the air, and Sid felt the force of it like a giant hand pressed against his chest.

The pressure was comforting, like a weighted blanket. He could see blurred shapes in the distance, far off and indistinct, shadow puppets being played out against the backdrop of his eyelids.

There was a sharp swoop in his stomach, like he was being tipped over to the side. He opened his eyes but the geometry of the airplane around him no longer made sense, the surfaces sloping at impossible angles. Sid pinched his eyes shut again. Long, thin feelers sank into his brain, trying to probe his mind, pulling things in odd directions. It was like he could feel reality erode around him, getting pushed to its limits. He’d been searching for some kind of meaning but maybe there just wasn’t one.

Whispers rose, hypnotizing in their rhythm, and even though Sid couldn’t understand the words, their tone was translatable. What he saw was bleak, a glimmer of something just beyond his comprehension. A truth so appalling he couldn’t accept it was real.

The question wasn’t so much a lack of meaning as it was a meaning too horrible to imagine.

The pressure against his chest intensified until it was no longer a comforting presence but like fingers digging into his skin. Something tightened around one of his wrists like a vise till Sid’s fingers prickled with a lack of bloodflow.

_“Hey, Sid.”_

Sid awoke with a start, sweaty and disoriented. He blinked a few times to clear the fuzziness from his eyes. Tanger was leaning across the aisle, his hand wrapped tight on Sid’s forearm where he was gripping the armrest for dear life. He must have been shaken awake.

“You all right, man?”

“Why do people keep asking me that,” Sid muttered, and looked around. He couldn’t see the top of Geno’s head over the seat in front of him. Sid was half out of his chair in an instant, shaking Kris’s hand off him. “Where’s Geno?”

“He just went to take a piss, sit down. Here,” Kris shoved him back into his seat and pulled a granola bar out from inside the lapel of his jacket, handing it over to Sid. “Eat this, you look pale as shit.”

“Thanks,” Sid snarked, accepting the food gratefully, light-headed from standing up so quickly. He had always been kind of amused by the fact that Kris still carried snacks around in his jacket even when Alex wasn’t there. But that was parenting for you. It seemed like so many of his teammates were settling down; even the ones that Sid still considered rookies were getting married and having children.

 _You’ve had children,_ his brain supplied helpfully. Sid broke the granola bar in two and shoved half of it into his mouth. His blood sugar was probably just low.

“Has this been a regular thing for you?” Kris asked, voice low.

Sid chewed thoughtfully, shoving the other half in his mouth and looked back down the hallway. “I’m going to the washroom,” he said around the food, not caring if he sounded transparent, and got up.

If Kris was judging him, he didn’t say anything.

Sid was unsteady on his feet as he made his way to the back of the plane. The door opened just as he got there and Geno had to squeeze by him in the narrow hallway, his face carefully blank.

“Hi,” Sid said, and Geno brushed past him. Fair enough.

Sid locked himself in the stall and looked at himself in the mirror. Fuck, he did look like a mess. The flat, fluorescent lights overhead didn’t help much. His hair was sweaty and his eyes were red-rimmed. Sid had to jab the timed button on the tap a couple of times before he got enough water to rinse his face and comb his hair back into some semblance of order. He sloshed water around his mouth and spat, watching it circle down the drain.

His chest still felt numb where that invisible pressure had pierced him. Sid pressed his hand to it, dulling the pain. Something crinkled under his palm and Sid finishing inside his breast pocket, pulling out a slip of paper.

It was an old newspaper clipping, one that he’d never seen before and didn’t remember cutting out. Sid braced his back against the wall and turned it over.

The headline read: _Cult Activity Linked by Small Impact Events._

Someone pounded on the door. “Hey Croz, we’re landing.”

Sid looked at his watch. He didn’t think he’d slept that long. But he saw the seatbelt light above the door switch on. Sid tucked the paper away back inside his pocket and unlatched the door. The space outside it was empty. Geno was back in his seat when Sid strapped in.

Kris leaned over into his space and Sid braced himself for another round of questioning, but he just said: “I thought you might have gotten your balls stuck in the vacuum flush.”

+

The undercurrent of persistent strangeness Sid had felt in Washington followed him all the way to LA and so did Geno’s icy silence. Thankfully, there was a lot to distract Sid in LA. The new teammates were meeting them at the hotel and the team had two days and a bit to breathe and get acquainted with the trades before playing the Kings.

Conor had wedding photos to show everyone and Rodrigues seemed like a good guy. It was always hard to tell how things would settle before playing together. Sid waited to meet Marleau at the entrance when he arrived to shake his hand. He was excited to have him on the team for multiple reasons--obviously his experience but also he was hoping to find an opportunity to talk.

Sid got his moment after the team dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. Geno sat at another table with Sheary and Rodrigues so Sid slid into the empty place beside Marleau. He stuck around for drinks, waiting for a good moment once some of the team had filtered out for the night. In the end, he didn’t even have to bring it up himself.

“So, I heard Malkin is carrying?” That was a polite way of putting it considering the way Geno looked. If he wasn’t pregnant, there would be something seriously wrong with him.

Sid perked up, placing down his glass. “Yeah, he is.”

Marleau nodded and smiled. He was nice and mild-mannered and it was difficult for Sid to equate that with what he knew someone went through being a vessel for the Cthulhu.

“He must be ready to deliver soon.”

“He is,” Sid said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “I was wondering, when you had to go back the second time, what was it like? I’ve only been able to remember the first visit clearly.”

“Oh, man. It was such a long time ago,” Marleau said, and got a distant look on his face. A faint smile quirked his lips, and Sid wanted that. That fond, reassuring memory that maybe everything was going to be okay.

“You don’t remember?” Sid asked.

“Honestly, Sid, I try not to think about it all that much. It’s better that way. I mean I’ve never even heard of two teammates from the same team go through it during the same era. That’s pretty amazing if you ask me.”

Sid stared into his drink, processing, and Patrick clapped him on the shoulder. “I was always proud to carry for my team but once it’s done it’s done, we got the Cup, that’s what we wanted. I don’t need to tell you that.” He winked. “I got to sleep, travel always wears me out. Good night, Sid.”

“Night,” Sid said, and stared down into his glass. That wasn’t as insightful as he hoped it might be.

Sid wasn’t surprised to find his room empty when he finally went up to bed. He found it hard to get to sleep alone these days; he wasn’t used to it anymore. He enjoyed having those moments to wind down with someone else. With Geno.

Sid went through the motions of getting ready for bed. He brought the notebook with him when he got under the covers. Sid had wedged the mysterious newspaper clipping in there like a bookmark. He read it over once again but at this point he was familiar with its contents. The article was a short one; it talked about the appearance of cults in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, all over the world and seemingly connected by small impact events, idols carved from greenish-black stone, and sacrifices. In 1907 an Inspector Legrasse reported one such gathering where the participants repeatedly chanted a phrase in a mysterious language. Sid grabbed his iPad but there was very little to be found on the information from the article or the author himself. There was an extensive reddit post on the topic that Sid combed through, but it didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.

Sid sighed in frustration, putting the iPad away, and reached for the remote instead. He flicked through the channels. Not much was on at this time of night. He glazed past reality TV and a show about cooking, some reruns of an old sitcom and then a fishing show on the Discovery Channel about Humboldt squid. Sid watched as the host boarded a fishing boat in Peru, his mind glazing over as the host described the rocking of the boat and the vastness of the sea.

 _“As all signs of land disappear, I rapidly lose my sense of direction,”_ the narrator said. The droning of the music in the background reminded Sid of a lighthouse siren. _“It becomes sickeningly apparent that this is a far cry from the rivers and lakes that I’m used to.”_ Sid knew that feeling; he could imagine the waves crashing around him, fishing off Chebucto Head.

_“As the days and nights blur we continue further out to sea and there’s no respite. The relentless sway of the boat is inescapable.”_

They finally pulled a squid over into the boat with a flurry of limbs, a jet of ink appearing out of the froth. It took at least two men to haul the squid out of the sea and onto the boat. Its skin flashed different colours against the deck, red and black, the tips of its tentacles pale. The host talked about the squid’s cannibalistic tendencies and Sid thought back to nightmare stories of the ritual sacrifices. If the fishing industry in Peru was really one of the oldest in the world, Sid wondered if they had ever seen something they couldn’t entirely explain.

As Sid watched the boat rock on screen, the fog lured him closer, promising to wrap him up and pull him under. Sid switched off the TV and rolled over. He flipped through the notebook, a half-hearted final attempt at stringing things together. He went back to look at the last entry and paused. Geno had left something there in the margins that Sid had overlooked. It was a drawing, two stick figures with smiling faces. The one labeled “Sid” was half the height of the one labeled “Geno,” which made him laugh despite himself. There were no tentacle dicks, but they were each holding a baby with squiggling lines coming out of the bottom half.

They’d watched a rerun of _Men in Black_ on a hotel TV not too long after Geno had gotten pregnant. He remembered the jokes Geno had made when the lady gave birth to her alien baby in a taxi. It had been cute—sort of. Sid had wondered if any of his children looked anything close to that.

Sid wasn’t aware that he’d fallen asleep until he was awoken by the sound of a keycard in the door and the bright strip of yellow light from the hallway. Sid had his back to it. It must have been early morning before any sun started leaking through the blinds. He lay very still, waiting to see what Geno would do.

The bed was filled with cool air when Geno lifted the sheet to crawl underneath it. Sid hadn’t realized he had been sweating till it hit his skin and he shivered. Geno rolled around and settled after a bit. Sid waited until his breathing went even and then shuffled until his back pressed up against the solid warmth of Geno’s and stayed there, not caring if the heat was bordering on uncomfortable. It was quiet for a long time.

Sid was close to falling back to sleep when Geno shifted again.

“Sid,” Geno whispered, calling his name as soft as ever.

Sid held his breath and waited. There was a rustle of sheets and then the heat of Geno’s back was gone. Sid barely had the time to miss it before he felt the soft caress of fingers trailing from the back of his neck down his spine. The touch firmed up, Geno’s palm pressing warm through the fabric of his shirt. Sid lay there, stone still and soaking in the care of the touch. Gradually the hand relaxed with sleep. Longing was a poor synonym for the rift in Sid’s chest. Geno had filled the empty gullies of his heart and this fresh wave of affection was almost too much to bear.

Sid turned over, careful not to roll on Geno’s hand. It lay against the mattress between them, curled softly like he was holding some invisible sphere. Slowly, Sid slotted his fingers into the empty spaces, pressing their palms together and closing his eyes once more.

+

It felt good to get some sun on his skin again. Sid loved the winter, he loved the cold, but it had a way of eating away at you over time. Geno had still been there when Sid woke up in the morning, a pleasant surprise. Sid watched him from the bed as Geno pulled a shirt over his head; he could see Geno’s reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

Sid didn’t mention anything about the night before or their argument, but he smiled at Geno and Geno’s reflection smiled back. Sid walked over and pressed his lips to the warm curve of Geno’s shoulder through his shirt, taking him in, and Geno reached up to scratch his fingers through the short hairs at the base of Sid's scalp.

They ate breakfast in the private room for the team and Sid was happy to watch Geno eat his eggs and fruit while he got called boring for his own choice of oatmeal.

They worked out in the sand, beside the ocean, the sun beating down making Sid feel sluggish. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. After drills, the team played a game of volleyball on the beach and sweating under the hot sun was a cleansing experience. After a few rounds, Sid circled back to the lounge chairs where Tanev was chatting up Geno, who was using his current state of pregnancy as an excuse not to participate.

“Hey, can I tap you in?” Sid said, gesturing over his shoulder at the game still going strong.

“Sure thing,” Brandon said, and Sid took his spot across from Geno, sitting on the edge of the lounger.

“I brought you a Gatorade,” he offered, and watched as Geno took a long pull from the bottle. Sid braced his arms on his knees. “I know you’re mad at me for what I said, and you’re right, you should be, I don’t really know what’s going on.” Sid wove his fingers together to mask the way his hands trembled. Geno was watching him with sunglasses on and Sid wished he could see his eyes. “But you have to understand it’s not that I think you can’t do this on your own. I just don’t want you to think you have to.”

He couldn’t meet Geno’s gaze for this next part, focusing instead on digging holes in the sand with his toes. “I’m just afraid, afraid that I’ve been wrong about all of this. But I don’t know about _what..._ You’ve got to understand, it was exciting for me when I was chosen, but when it came down to going back there alone or not I didn't have a choice.” Sid laughed to himself. “Honestly, even if I had had the choice I probably would have decided to tough it out alone anyways. But, there was no option, and from what little I can remember it wasn’t the same as the first time around.”

Sid let out a heavy breath. “You can go by yourself if you want, but I don’t know if it’s just about sacrificing your body for the Cup anymore,” he concluded, leaving the “ _or if it ever was in the first place”_ unspoken. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

Geno was silent for a moment, his lips pressed together in a tight white line. Finally, Geno sat up, leaning over to clasp Sid’s fingers in his and give them a light squeeze. “Okay, Sid.”

Sid took a tremulous breath and looked out over the flat horizon, blinking hard. It was so different from the images he had become accustomed to in his dreams.

There was a gurgle from beside him and Sid looked over to see Geno staring wide-eyed at his stomach. Another distorted noise erupted from it and he visibly paled.

“Hungry?” Sid asked evenly and Geno nodded, still staring at his stomach like he was expecting it to explode.

“C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

There was a noticeable difference in Geno’s waistline when he stood. Foreboding squirmed in Sid’s stomach.

Geno swayed on his feet and gripped Sid’s shoulder to steady himself. He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and blinked dazedly. “Maybe we order room service?”

Sid hustled Geno inside, overly aware of everyone around them, that unshakable feeling of being watched, by people, by cameras, who knew what else.

Geno’s face looked hollow under the fluorescent lights in the elevator. None of it felt right.

The first thing Sid did when they got to the room was pick up the phone and order a smattering of appetizer plates while Geno stripped out of his trunks and pulled on a pair of Sid’s sweats, too short and a little loose, just the way he liked them. It was better to over order; whatever he didn’t like, Sid would eat.

When the room service arrived, there were plates stacked on both shelves of the trolley. Geno propped up pillows against the headboard to lie against, trying to get comfortable. Sid knew it was an impossible task.

He put the plate of finger sandwiches on Geno’s bedside table. Sid skinned off his own trunks and pulled on some boxers, took a plate off the tray for himself, and flopped on the bed. He picked at his vegetable plate while Geno steadily worked his way through the plate of sandwiches and moved onto a cheese and crackers platter.

Sid felt tired just watching him, his body drained. The edges of his vision went fuzzy black, the weight of sleep pulling at his eyelids, trying to drag him back under. The room was warm, and Geno was there, and Sid was so, so tired—

When Sid woke he was alone in bed. The room was so dark he had to strain his eyes to see. It felt like he had lost time again. Soft thrashing noises came from somewhere in the room. Pushing the covers away, he followed the gurgling sounds and the weak light leaking through the cracks of the bathroom door. It swung open on its hinges with a touch of his fingers. No one was inside, just the dim light that pulsed slowly in waves, like at the bottom of a pool.

The sound was coming from the sink, water running from the tap and spilling over the edges. Sid rushed to turn it off but the basin stayed full and under closer inspection, seemed to glow.

There was a black spot floating on the surface. Sid rubbed at his eyes but it didn’t disappear. The spot grew, curling outwards like a drop of ink. Slowly, Sid touched his fingers to it, submerging the tips—then the rest of his hand. Deeper and deeper still, his arm reached until the water hit his elbow. Sid flexed his fingers. He couldn’t see them, but the water felt cool, turning with a current like the depths that brushed against your toes in the ocean.

Something touched his finger in a gentle caress, coiling up his hand. The familiar sensation of suckers mouthing at his skin crept upwards. Sid gave an experimental yank but it wouldn’t let go. He yanked again, harder, the black water sloshing over the lip of the sink and the tentacle yanked him back like a game of tug-of-war, jerking his arm down until the edge of the sink bit into his armpit.

Struggling to keep his face out of the water, Sid resisted in vain. He lost the fight as his head was pulled under. He could see his screams bubbling out around him. Gradually, the water drained, and he wasn’t face-first in a sink any more but standing on the barren immensity of a rolling plane. Sharp black rock like frozen waves dug into his heels, and he slipped as he tried to take his first step, the ground greasy with oil, festering like it had once been under the sea.

Sid walked, it didn’t matter in what direction. The horizon wrapped around him, no distinguishing features to be found. He didn’t know how long he walked before, finally, something stood out against the gaping horizon. A form lying against the rock appeared from the haze, ghostly pale and surrounded by detritus, like the scattered bits left from a meteorite.

Its side quivered and Sid could see ripples moving through its pale body as if it was in a deep sleep. It looked like the worms Sid used to dig out of the muddy sand on the beach when the tide drew low. Its long white body coiled loosely in a bed of brine and weeds.

Sid knelt beside its massive shape. The fringe that ran along its side was feathery. He couldn’t tell if they were feelers or feet—maybe both. He touched a hand to its side and a soft, penetrating voice pierced his mind.

 _“My somnambulist,_ _you’ve come.”_

With a jerk like an electrical shock, the edges of his consciousness fluttered with the worm’s many legs and the pale body hardened and warped under his hand. Sid’s palm burned. The air around him became fuzzy and warm, too dark once again to see. In a half-awake daze, panic balled in his chest until Sid’s fingers bumped up against Geno’s sleeping form. Sid stroked along the knobs of his spine like the spine of his notebook, grounding himself.

It was as much reassurance as he was going to get. Sid stripped from his sweat-drenched clothes, tossing them away from the bed. The sheets were cool and soothing against his hot skin. Shuffling closer so he was curled up against Geno’s back, the shell of Geno’s ear slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted.

Sid was on edge and shivery. Brushing up against Geno’s sweats, he nestled closer until his dick fit against the curve of Geno’s ass. Sid groaned softly, pressing his face to Geno’s neck and rocked in small grinding motions. Closing his eyes, he let himself float in a hot pool of arousal.

Something touched his hip—it was Geno’s hand—moving between them and hooking his fingers into the back of his own sweats, pulling them down.

The caress of Geno’s bare skin was like an ointment. Sid wiggled his hips until his cock was snug up between Geno’s cheeks and sighed, rutting in short movements. He was burning up.

For a moment, Geno lay so still Sid thought he might have fallen back asleep. Then there was something being pressed into his palm. One of the small hotel bottles of lotion.

Sid squirted some into his hand. It was creamy and thick. He reached down, rubbing it into the hot, damp space between Geno’s thighs. Geno tilted his hips back into the touch, offering. Sid took extra care spreading some over his hole, lingering and stroking Geno’s rim till he was letting out short, whining breaths. Sid slipped a fingertip past the ring of muscle, pushing slowly in until Geno gasped.

The need that gripped him was hot and impatient. Sid drew his finger out and guided his dick into the tight crease between Geno’s thighs, sleek with lotion. Hitching his hips till he was settled nice and deep, Sid pressed all up against the length of Geno’s back, beginning to thrust, sliding his cock through the slippery space sealed tight around him. Grinding at the end of a particularly deep thrust, he heard a soft moan and felt Geno’s arm brush against his as he reached for his dick. Sid rutted against the smooth skin of Geno’s inner thighs, bumping up against his sack, and finding the back of Geno’s neck with his mouth, he pressed his tongue to the salty skin.

Geno had gone heavy against him and Sid wormed his arms around him, wedging one between his body and the mattress, his hands roving over Geno’s stomach. It felt huge, making him burn up with need.

Sid bent a knee and planted his foot so he could snap his hips shallowly. Geno made a grunt and fisted his dick harder, his breath speeding up when Sid’s cockhead caught against Geno’s hole, slippery with lotion.

The next time it caught, Sid kept the pressure there, teasing till Geno let out a ragged gasp, body bowing against him. “You’d let me, huh? You’d let me fuck you like this,” Sid murmured, and Geno moaned in response.

He reached down between them and rubbed the tip of his cock over Geno’s hole, so when he pressed against it, Geno was easy for it.

Slowly, Sid eased in, Geno squirming against the pressure, his head tipped back, harsh wet pants and a series of _“ah”_ s spilling from his lips as just the tip slid home. Sid fit his fingers around the rest of his cock, rocking past the tight ring of muscle in short aborted movements.

Stroking his shaft, Sid felt the throb of his own cock as Geno’s ass tightened like a vise. Geno’s hand was flying over his own dick, slippery with precome, and he’d probably let Sid slide all the way home if he asked. Just the idea of sinking into him like this was thrilling. Sid was out of his mind with it. “You want me to come in you?” he whispered. “You’re already so full of babies, what’s one more?”

“Ah, please,” Geno gasped, his body stiffening, bracing to come, and Sid knew he had when Geno’s warm release splattered across his hand.

Sid gripped his belly tight, the heat taking over his body. Geno’s skin was taut underneath his palms. Sid fucked into him, hips stuttering and Geno’s belly worming under his touch, softening as Geno writhed against him like an animal. It felt primal. Like whatever they were doing was a need driven by instinct more than lust. Geno’s skin was awfully soft under his hand, it had _give_ the way Sid knew a pregnant stomach shouldn’t. Sid peeled open his eyes.

He wasn’t in his room. He was back in that dark oasis, lying beside the milky form of the worm, wrapped in its soft, slick body. Sid scrambled back, but its long tail whipped out, coiling around him. Sid could feel spines like teeth rolling against his skin, holding him in place. That voice was back again.

 _“I was his first mate,”_ she told him. The worm moved, like a charmed snake. Coiling tighter around him as her face arched over his, unfurling to reveal pincers and rows of sharp teeth, whirling, hypnotizing. Sid couldn’t look away. He swore he could see a light at the back of her mouth, bright, like a star.

_“This is my home. The remnants of Xoth, my sleeping star, lie around me. I was here before you and I will be here long after you and your kin have been swept from the earth.”_

She leaned in closer and Sid could see a whole galaxy existed inside her, dark and rich and speckled with light. _“When you look into the sky you can see the future. Soon the stars will be right. Soon the great dreamer will wake.”_ And Sid did see it, through her eyes. Her vision of their reign was terrible and beautiful, and they would sweep through the universe with an unstoppable force. _“Then, we will need the faithful to take their pilgrimage to R’lyeh.”_

She pulled away, her face closing once again. _“There was no beginning, there is no end, only disorder.”_ She knew it to be true, and in that moment, so did Sid. Her children, the star spawn; the children of the humans who had mated with them; and the human dreamers, slaves of the Xothians, would all fight the Elder Things in the final war for the universe.

It was the mental equivalent of tumbling down a hill head-first, not sure what was up or down anymore, the entire world spinning around him. An accidental bringing together of separate things, clicking into place like the final pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and Sid wanted to scream at the tableau, a scale and scope he could never have imagined. Unlocking a place in his mind he’d been suppressing—a covenant of dark forms, gripping him with stark terror.

These were the cycles of life, old and unhallowed. Unstoppable. If Sid believed in fate, that’s probably what he would call it. What was the point in fighting if every path you took led to the same outcome? He sank into despair as if getting sucked down a drain, his vision going black.

_“Sid, Sid!”_

He awoke with a start, sweaty and sticky and naked. Geno was leaning over him equally so, his stomach still covered in his release and _squirming--_

Sid sat up with a jerk, rubbing his eyes. It was impossible to tell if he was awake or dreaming anymore, but the panic visible in Geno’s face was very real and left Sid feeling starkly cold.

“They’re coming,” Geno said.

“It can’t be now,” Sid reasoned. They weren't at home, they weren’t even on the right coast. This couldn’t be happening. Geno’s stomach was distended far past anything Sid had seen yet. He was drawn tense between the extremes of horror and fascination watching Geno’s skin warp. He knew that feeling.

Geno reached a shaky hand over to grab his phone. “I get flight back to Pittsburgh, I can’t play like this.”

A frisson of fear zipped down Sid’s spine. Whatever this was, the thought of Geno being alone without Sid to go through this was still the worst. His body repelled the idea. “There’s no way you’re getting on a plane.”

“I have no choice, do I?” Geno’s eyes looked big and red. He looked scared. “I can’t just not have babies, I have to go, Sid.”

Panic clogged Sid’s throat. “I just want to help you, _please._ That’s all I want.”

Between them, Geno’s stomach gave another lurch, moving in a way it should never be able to. Geno stared at it for what felt like eons, all the remnants of colour draining from his face. Finally, he nodded.

“Just stay there, I’ll figure something out,” Sid assured, and scrambled out of the bed.

Pulling on his discarded briefs, Sid grabbed a bottle of water and some aspirin from his bag. He remembered the cramps and the pungent taste of salt in the back of his mouth. He hustled into the washroom to crank on the tub; maybe Geno could have them here in the hotel room and they could sneak them out and release them into the ocean at night. If they were really supposed to be children of a god, navigating the mundane waters of an Earth sea should be no sweat. The sound of rushing water filled his ears and Sid watched the water in the tub climb. If he listened carefully he could hear the distant rhythmic chanting build.

He walked over to the sink as if on autopilot, plugging the drain and turning on the taps and watching with bated breath as it filled. Nothing was going to happen, he was sure of it, he was just grasping at straws. The water inched closer to the rim. For a while there was nothing at all--then the stream of water slowed, all on its own. One inky black droplet dripped into the sink, followed by another and another until they were building in rapid succession. The water quivered at the rim of the sink, threatening to spill over.

The edges flickered, and slowly, Sid slipped his hand into the breach. It felt like nothing, just coldness, the same way it had in his dream.

“G, come’ere!” Sid called, taking a step back when the liquid began to leak over the side.

There was a distant groan from the other room followed by the sounds of exertion as Geno got up. “What?” Geno said, bracing himself against the door jam, a hand pressed to the bottom curve of his stomach, like he was trying to keep whatever was inside at bay, his complexion waxen and sweaty. It took a second for him to notice, and then he bitoff a curse. The water sloshed over the edge as if it responded to his presence, pooling around the base of the sink. Sid watched in fascination as it crept outward, snaking up the wall against gravity.

The water ate away at the paint in rotting blooms, revealing the cinder block underneath. The water ate into that, too. Ornate grooves like years of water damage branded into the stone. The markings were as alien to Sid as they were familiar. He could not read the script but he could identify the shapes. A frame, a door. No handle.

“We have to go now,” Sid said, looking to Geno. His eyes were as wide and white around the rim as cup saucers and his hands were shaking. It was the same base animal fright Sid had become familiar with these last few months.

Sid held out his hand. “G, please.”

“I’ve seen this door,” Geno said, not moving.

Urgency coiled around Sid’s chest like a snake. He remembered that chilling voice and wondered if the great white worm had whispered to Geno too in his sleep.

_“Please.”_

A rumble tore through the room, echoed by the chanting, willing them to comply and draining the blood from their faces. Geno pushed himself from the door jamb, clamping his fingers down around Sid’s wrist like a vise. Sid pressed his palm to the stone door behind the sink and closed his eyes.

“ _ **Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn** ,"_ was stated clearly in his ear as a pop and wash of coldness hit his body. Sid clamped his eyes shut. It was like being plunged into a bath of ice water. He knew the world outside was being broken apart and rearranged around them. His gut twisted with it, the high flying feeling of racing your car over a hill and letting your intestines get acquainted with your tonsils.

There was nothing for a moment, only darkness and the feeling of Geno’s iron grip. Sid wondered for a moment if he opened his eyes now, if they’d be left floating in space. The fundamental forces slammed down on them and they were spat out onto the dark oasis to the sound of crunching rock and sand.

Sid heard a distant groan. He rolled over, feeling a lot like a fish out of water. His bones hurt and his joints felt like jello. He still had the water bottle crushed uselessly in one palm. The other was numb from Geno’s grip. Sid shook the pins and needles from it, crawling on his knees in the coarse sand to where Geno lay sprawled. Everything in this world was sharp: the sand and the rocks, the bite of the wind against his face and the cold breath in his lungs as Sid tried to gather himself. Seeing if Geno was okay was the first and most important task.

“Hey. Hey, G--” Sid muttered, gripping his shoulders and shaking him lightly. Raindrops hit Geno’s face, making it twitch as he gradually came to and wiped them from his face. Sid helped him as Geno slowly pushed himself up. Lightning crackled in the distance and Geno’s skin glistened for a moment under the flash of light. Sid could feel the moisture from the air gathering on his upper lip like dew.

 _“Geno,”_ Sid said, finally snaring his attention. Geno’s eyes took a moment to focus as he tried to register where he was. His hair curled against his forehead in dark ringlets, wet from sweat and the rain. Sid felt equally soaked to the bone.

“You need to get undressed.” Sid instructed. Geno had pulled on a pair of briefs and Sid helped him stand and peeled them from his body. Bracing his hands on Sid’s shoulders, Geno stepped out of them with one foot, then the other, leaving them in the sand where they stood. His stomach took up most of Sid’s view, and Sid was mesmerized by the way the skin rippled and stretched.

Sid looked around, assessing his surroundings. It was just as he remembered it. A long strip of beach stretching out endlessly to each side. Tumultuous black waters and the craggy rocks jutting out of the sand towards the sky. Sid surveyed the shoreline, then grabbed his mangled water bottle and led Geno to one of the many nests of knotty seaweed scattered along the beach, picking one right where the water broke against the sand. Their progress was slow, the air so choked with water it was difficult to breathe.

As Sid helped Geno down into the nest, another throb of lightning struck, blitzing across the horizon and dragging out the shadows of the rocks that caged them against the sea, lengthening them into recognizable figures: hooded black shapes that moved like men to encircle them. The light pulsed again, and continued in a staccato beat. The figures didn’t come close, hovering at the fringe as Sid got Geno settled.

Their voices rose, chanting to the rhythm of the light, and Sid caught it, the first sign of the familiar beast outlined against the horizon. Sid couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement at the sight of him, even as Geno let out a groan. But it wasn’t really Cthulhu, was it? It was one of the star spawn, his children, biding their time, building an army until their father woke from his sleep in R’lyeh. Any excitement was quickly squashed by the memory of the bleak future he’d seen. That was what they could look forward to in exchange for good fortune during the postseason? It was a deal with the devil.

The sight of the beast displaced the remaining fog in Sid’s mind and all of a sudden he could remember what had happened to him here in those same flashes of vivid colour. Sid’s brain was seared with the memory of delivering his brood of eggs, lying here in a nest of seaweed looking up at the stormy sky while egg after egg slipped out of him endlessly. There had been so many.

He was dragged out of it by Geno’s voice. He couldn't let himself get swamped in his own memories when Geno was right here going through the same thing, his face red and veiny, puckered with pain.

The water licked at Geno’s shins. His fingers were white, tangled in the seaweed and gripping hard as contractions rolled through his body. There was a gush of liquid, churning with the water. Sid remembered how warm it had been, how strange the sensation was. Geno groaned as the first few eggs were pushed out into the sea. They weren’t large, long thin ovals with soft shells, but it was the number of them that was overwhelming. All Sid could do was watch as an endless stream slid out of Geno and the chanting around them reaching a rapturous pitch, delighted with their offering. Sid thought it might never end, and it was completely out of his or Geno’s control. All he could do was wait.

Sid could feel the presence of the beast standing far above them, watching from the water. He tried his best not to look, not to acknowledge, keep all of his attention focused on Geno, where it mattered. The water was a dark film that hid many secrets, swallowing up the eggs as they disappeared beneath it. Sid watched as a thin black tentacle slithered from the seafoam and coiled around Geno’s ankle. Sid gripped him tighter, probably too tight, but he doubted Geno could feel it, feel anything beyond the contractions seizing his body.

There was a rumble and the tentacle slithered back into the water. The earth shook and Sid looked up to watch the hulking dark form of the beast disappear into the green mist that rose off the ocean. He felt it when Geno slumped, tension leaving his body, and Sid’s attention snapped back to him. Geno’s chest heaved with relief and he sucked in a deep breath. Sweat dewed on his forehead but the pain that had wrinkled his face had mostly disappeared.

The cloaked figures were unsettlingly close. Sid could make out the whiskers trailing from the mouths of their dark hoods like a catfish's, their slick and gnarled hands protruding from their sleeves. Their skin had the texture of dripped wax, bumpy with a shiny residue. Sid curled himself further over Geno, shielding him from their view. He wondered if the first mate was here, enjoying their sacrifice, _Geno’s_ sacrifice. The fear was right there, an animal thing crawling at the back of his throat. He knew what they wanted now, him, maybe Geno too. Just when Sid thought he might have to yell, they began to move away.

Sid relaxed minutely. Geno was still just breathing. Something caught his eye: by Sid’s knee was one perfect little oval sitting on the wet sand. Sid was mesmerized by the sight. He unwrinkled the drained water bottle to the best of his abilities and closed his fingers around the egg gently. Without pausing to think, he slipped it carefully into the open neck of the bottle, filling it with seawater and screwing the lid tightly shut. No one had to know.

The cloaked figures had receded into the blackness but Sid could still feel their eyes on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.

“Sid, can we go?” Geno asked, voice grainy.

Sid gripped the bottle tight in his fist. “Yeah, of course. Let’s get you out of here.” He reached for Geno, getting him to his feet. He could feel the thrum of his pulse and he hoisted one of Geno’s arms around his neck, slow and sluggish.

As they walked away from the water, one world fizzed out of existence as they were transported to another. When Sid’s eyes focused, they were standing back in their hotel bathroom, Geno slumped against his side. He reached over, flicking on the light, and heard Geno groan in response. Sid winced. Everything was starkly bright compared to the gloom they had been previously encased in. It was like coming back from one of his dreams. Any signs of the door or overflown sink were completely gone like they had never really been there to begin with.

Geno’s skin was plastered in grit and bits of sea vegetation. Briny water and amniotic fluid dripped down his legs and pooling by his feet. Sid watched it with a tight feeling in his chest. “Let’s get you into the shower, eh?”

The feeling loosened as they stood under the hot water together with Geno’s head resting like a stone in the groove of Sid’s shoulder. He hadn’t even realized how cold he had been until the hot water made his fingers and toes throb sharply.

Sid sometimes griped about their difference in height, more for show than because he really meant it. He had never been more grateful for it than now, when he could tuck his nose into the hollow at the base of Geno’s throat and feel his pulse against his lips.

After a while, Sid made Geno sit on the floor and soak for a bit. When he was wrinkly and pink and clean once again, Sid rolled Geno up like a burrito and got into bed. Sid wondered if it would be too much to call the front desk for a hot water bottle, but he couldn’t imagine getting up again, not now that they were lying face to face, Sid’s arm thrown over Geno’s hip, holding him close.

Geno’s eyes were closed and the blankets were pulled up to his red nose. “I guess when we get home it’s my turn to bring you ice cream in bed,” Sid whispered.

“Nooo, no cold,” Geno moaned. He sounded groggy, and Sid chuckled softly.

“Fine, we’ll save the ice cream for the next time one of us pulls a muscle. What do you want instead.”

Geno’s legs tangled with Sid’s, rubbing together to get warm.“Cookies,” he murmured. “And sleep,” he added, one of his hands snaking out of his many layers of blankets and towels to pinch at Sid’s side before pulling it back in just as quickly.

“Okay, I can do cookies. I’ll be quiet now,” Sid promised, and Geno let out a contented hum.

They lay in peaceful silence, and just when Sid thought he was about to nod off, Geno gripped him tighter and whispered: “You were right,”

“About what?” Sid asked.

“It better—not be alone— don’t know how you do.” His English was breaking down as he got closer to sleep, making Sid feel painfully tender.

“You know me, I like a challenge.” Sid said. He thought back to his time carrying his brood and the photo he’d given Geno. How his team had gathered around him. “But I had a lot of help.”

+

Geno was walking around like the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He received a series of slaps on the back from their teammates. Even the new guys joined in, which normally when it came to Geno would be a bold move, but this time he welcomed the attention. He was less welcoming to Sid’s attention when he tried to inspect his stomach the morning after.

Sid wasn’t feeling quite so breezy. He knew he should tell Geno everything that he’d seen the other night, but he didn’t want to take this from him. Besides, Sid had other things to worry about right now. The water bottle was like a magnetic weight, pulling his attention back to it every few minutes, his mind wandering to where he had left it in their room. He still had no idea what to do with it.

Sid scarfed down his omelette and, as casually as he could, slipped one of the salt shakers into his pocket when they left brunch. _The egg would need more salt water, wouldn’t it?_

Sid lay on the bed patiently while Geno fussed in the bathroom. He hadn’t stopped talking about the Lakers game since they had gotten the tickets. When Geno finally emerged, a wall of his cologne emerged with him, smacking Sid in the face. He sat up and gestured at Geno’s shirt. “I thought meeting LeBron would be a four patterns of plaid night, not just the one.”

“Fuck you,” Geno said merrily.

“He’s going to think you don’t like him,” Sid teased.

“Shh.” Geno made like he was going to try and pinch Sid’s lips shut and resisted at the last moment. “You ready?”

“I just need a minute, I’ll meet you down there.”

Geno gave him a curious look and shrugged, sticking his phone in his pocket. “Don’t be too slow, we leave you.”

“Sure you will,” Sid said, and as soon as the door clicked shut, he turned to hunt for the water bottle. He had stuck it in a cool, dark place out of the reach of the sun. But when he pulled it out, nothing had changed.

Sid filled the tub with cool water and upended the pilfered salt shaker into it, unscrewing the top. He swished it around with his hand, trying to mix it together the best he could without hot water. It probably wouldn’t work long term. _What the fuck am I doing,_ Sid thought once again as he poured the contents of the water bottle into the tub _._ This was such a crap idea.

He watched the egg settle at the bottom for a long moment, but nothing happened. He heard the buzz of his phone going off against the floor; he didn’t have the time to sit here and watch the egg forever. Maybe he’d killed it. Liquid fear ran down his spine. Sid’s phone gave another impatient buzz and he relinquished his grip on the edge of the tub. He couldn’t wait all night for nothing to happen.

With a gusty sigh, Sid made himself leave the bathroom, pulling the curtain back around the tub as a shield. The guys were gathered by where they’d parked the bus. Geno made a show of tapping his watch. _“Late,”_ he admonished, huffing loudly enough to make sure everyone knew how put off he was feeling.

“He’s finally learned how to use that thing,” Jack muttered when Sid stopped beside him.

“We’ll see how long it lasts,” said Schultz.

“Geno’s just worried we won’t have enough time to ask LeBron to sign his ass crack,” Tanger explained.

“How do you even sign an ass crack?” Rust asked, looking to Jack for an answer.

Jack shrugged, “Don’t ask me, I’m not famous enough. Sid?”

Sid looked around and grinned. “Sorry boys, I’ve only signed tits.”

+

They did, in fact, get there in time. But that didn’t stop Geno from herding them around like a wound-up sheepdog.

Geno didn’t end up getting anything signed, but the way he lingered around the lockers had Sid filing away signed basketball cards as possible birthday presents.

It was late enough by the time they got back to the hotel that Sid barely stumbled into the dark bathroom to piss before collapsing into bed.

Sid woke with a start to the sound of the sink running. He had forgotten about the egg in the tub. The door to the bathroom was cracked and he pushed his way in. Geno was looking at his phone while he brushed his teeth. The curtain was still drawn, and Sid sighed a breath of relief.

Geno held his phone up to Sid and said: “Did you see?” but with a mouth full of toothpaste it sounded more like: _“id u pee?”_

Sid took his phone while Geno spat and rinsed his mouth. He’d managed to get a lingering shot of Sid’s ass as someone explained the history of the Lakers arena to him. “Those jeans are starting to look baggy,” Sid muttered, and handed the phone back to him.

Geno laughed, shaking his head. “You crazy.”

He leaned against the counter and started scrolling through his Instagram feed like he might stay there forever, even when Sid made his way over to the toilet and started pushing at his waistband. “Are you going to just stand there and watch me? I have to go.”

Geno lifted an eyebrow at him. “You still got the runs?” he asked but at least he pushed away from the counter, making to leave.

“Yeah whatever,” Sid said. “Can you close the door?”

Geno rolled his eyes but shut it behind him. Sid dropped his hands and locked it. He took a breath before pulling the shower curtain back--there was no change. The egg sat on the bottom of the tub, hardly distinguishable. Sid added some more water and stirred it around, because it wouldn’t hurt, then flushed the toilet for appearances and put the curtain back.

Geno was sitting on the bed waiting for him.

“Ready?” Sid asked.

“Just waiting for you,” Geno said as Sid pulled on his shorts. “What will the new guys say, best captain in NHL late _two_ days in a row.”

“But I’m still the best, eh?”

Geno sighed long-sufferingly but it didn’t stop him from groping Sid’s ass on the way out the door.

+

They won the game against the Kings by a landslide and Geno was beyond euphoric. He told half the people he spoke to after the game that it was _“because of his babies”_ that they had won. The guilt gnawed at Sid once more. He’d tell Geno when they were back home, Sid told himself. Or maybe at the end of the season. There was no point in making him worry before then.

Management had booked some tables at the restaurant in the hotel looking out onto the beach. Sid would be lying if he didn’t say between glass two and three he pictured great slimy tentacles reaching up out of the depths and attacking the hotel like a 1950s monster flick. There was enough to distract him, though. He helped interpret Geno’s questions about the side dishes to the waitress because Geno refused to eat salad _“with leaves.”_

“I’m not rabbit,” Geno said. They had argued one too many times about what actually constituted salad. Geno believed it should involve mayo. Sid _disagreed._

Kris dragged him in by his shoulders. “I didn't get to say it earlier but I see congratulations are in order. The kids were starting to worry Geno might pop like a water balloon.”

Sid grimaced at the visual. It wasn’t been too far off from what had actually happened. “He kind of did,” Sid said, turning to Kris. “You see, when the eggs--”

“Nope, don’t want to hear it.” Kris cupped his hands over his ears. “It was bad enough listening to you talk about this the first time, I don’t want to go through that again.”

“I like that story, the underdogs winning against all odds,” Horny interjected.

"You like it because you were in it," Kris said flatly.

“What story?” Teddy asked.

“In 2009--” Sid started and ginned when the whole table groaned in unison.

Sid gave them a break and the table quieted down again. Geno leaned over to whisper in his ear. “We do good,”

“Yeah,” Sid said, and leaned further into Geno’s space, whispering back. “Hey, I’m going to head back to the room, I'm sacked.”

Geno frowned. “You feel okay? Want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s all right, I’m good. Just need to catch some Zs.”

Geno snorted out a breath of laughter against Sid’s cheek and Sid was feeling bold enough to sneak a kiss to the corner of his mouth before he stood up and dropped his napkin on the table.

“You’re not really going to bed are you, old man?” Horny asked.

“Sid’s gassy,” Geno said through a mouthful of leafless salad as if Sid hadn’t suffered months of Geno’s noxious pregnancy farts.

“I’m just trying to communicate with you in a language you understand,” Sid said, and watched Geno face turn three different shades of red.

Sid decided to make his exit before he ended up dragged back into a conversation about whether or not you could actually communicate through flatulation.

“I think sea slugs can vomit their intestines out their butt as a defence tactic,“ Jack added.

“Nobody needed to know that, I’m eating _pasta_ dude _\--_ ” Teddy compalined.

“Maybe you could incorporate that into your defensive play, Johnson,” Kris said.

Sid saluted his goodbye and left.

The room was dark. The sun had set a long time ago. Sid shut the door softly, not wanting to disturb anything. He didn’t flick on the lights either. As he walked deeper into the room, he found it filled with watery blue light, leaking from the cracks around the bathroom door. Cautiously, Sid pulled it open. The light was coming from behind the shower curtain, distorted and projected across the walls in patterns just like the ones at the bottom of a pool he’d seen before.

With a mixture of thrill and trepidation, Sid pulled the shower curtain back. The water in the tub glowed aqua, like bioluminescence. He knelt on the bath mat, undoing his shirt cuffs and rolling them up past his elbows. Somehow it wasn’t the glowing blue water that stood out the most to him. Instead, just under the surface, Sid was focused on the way the thin membrane of the egg stretched and distorted the same way Geno’s stomach had. It was larger than it had been earlier, Sid was sure of it.

It stretched and stretched, and Sid had to stop himself from reaching down and helping break it open. He remembered finding a nest of hatching eggs as a kid and his dad telling him not to mess with it, that if they couldn’t break through the shell on their own, it wasn’t meant to happen.

When it finally broke through, Sid’s heart felt like it seized in his chest. It wasn’t a squid and it wasn’t an octopus, it was something else, something alien. But he’d known that, so why did he still find it so hard to breathe?

A spindly pale arm reached out towards him, tentatively, and Sid reached out his hand in turn, touching the tip of its tentacle with his fingers. It recoiled, waves travelling through its skin with a shudder.

It was instinct more than anything that made Sid dip his hands into the bath and pull the being from the water. Its skin rippled with mesmerizing shades of colour when Sid touched it. Sitting back on his heels, Sid cradled it to his chest. Its arms gripped at his, mouthing curiously. It didn’t feel like the same proprietary grip of the Cthulhu. This was exploratory, like a child. Its skin was soft and slippery and when one of the feelers reached his cheek, the touch was almost affectionate. It trailed over Sid’s ear and his nose, upper body squirming until it didn’t look like the upper half of a cephalopod but an actual baby.

 _“Hey,”_ Sid cooed at it. Its skin was still mottled and oddly textured but he could have sworn it smiled.

“Sid?”

Sid flinched as the lights were turned on, flooding the room with stark yellow light. It felt even stranger to be holding the creature with a dose of reality in the form of fluorescent bulbs and Geno staring at him, his jaw even looser than normal. The baby squirmed in Sid’s arms, protesting the bright light, and Sid hushed it, petting the crown of its soft skull.

He felt the presence of Geno kneeling beside him. “Oh Sid, what you do?”

“I--” Sid began to try and explain but his throat closed up. One of its tentacles had curled around his finger. “Look at it,” he said instead.

Slowly, Geno's hand joined Sid’s and another tentacle reached up to curl around Geno’s finger and worm over his hand. Sid could tell when its attention switched from Sid to Geno, enraptured. Its body shuddered again and the tentacle around his finger became a tiny hand. Sid had a sudden vision of a human baby but with eight arms, but thankfully this one only had two-- _for now._ It didn’t seem overly committed to staying in one shape, Sid thought, just as its skin pulsed again.

“We have to tell someone, Sid,” Geno whispered. “Can’t hide this, this _baby--_ ”

It was impossible, he knew that. But Geno was looking at the baby’s finger around his like he never wanted to let go. Setting his jaw, Sid decided: there was really only one clear answer.

"We call Jen."

**Author's Note:**

> **Words that don't make any sense:**
> 
> [Xoth](https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Xoth)\--A green binary star where Cthulhu once lived. There's also reference to "Xoth" as being a star system. The "Xothians" also originate from here. 
> 
> [The White Worm](https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Idh-yaa)\-- Or "Idh-yaa" one of Cthulhu's mates from the star Xoth.
> 
> [Xothians](https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/Xothian)\--Or the "Star Spawn" are the children of Idh-yaa and Cthulhu and are also from Xoth. Their whole goal is to resurrect Cthulhu and build an army and fight the "Elder Things" Cthulhu's arch-nemesis. 
> 
> [The Elder Things](https://aliens.fandom.com/wiki/Elder_Thing)\--A sapient alien species, the original colonizers or earth, the possible creators of the human species, and Cthulhu's enemy. 
> 
> The Dreamers--The faithful humans and mutants that will be led to R'lyeh, be turned mad by the rising of Cthulhu and fight in the war under the command of the Xothians and the Deep Ones. 
> 
> [R'lyeh](https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/R%27lyeh)\--The sunken city of Cthulhu where he is being kept prisoner. 
> 
> [The Deep Ones](https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Deep_One)\--An ocean-dwelling race that often mates with humans. They also live in an underwater city "Y'ha-nthlei" and worship the deities Dagon and Hydra as well as Cthulhu. The security guard Sid sees may be one or related to one. 
> 
> [Great Old Ones](https://lovecraft.fandom.com/wiki/Great_Old_One)\--A group of deities including Cthulhu and Idh-yaa.
> 
>  _"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."_ \--The chant of Cthulhu which translates to: _"In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."_


End file.
